


Work of Science Fiction

by JayBirdVanna



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android/human relationship, F/M, Murder Mystery, Strong Language, buddy cop, descriptions of violence, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayBirdVanna/pseuds/JayBirdVanna
Summary: Jane Prescott is struggling to find inspiration for her next novel after her last series ended up on the best-sellers list for 2037.  But, when a news story about a certain android captures her attention, how far will she go to find the story she wants to tell.  And how many lives will she disrupt in the process?  Will she weave her usual tales of murder mystery or end up at the center of the most important moment in recent history?





	Work of Science Fiction

**Prologue: Follow Your Inspiration**

The sound of pen scratching against paper was the only noise that filled Jane’s office space other than her frustrated groans.  She growled down at the notebook that contained her awful handwriting. The black ink was a stark contrast to the bright white paper, the dark lines of her words blurring together as her eyes drifted out of focus.  Pressing her fingertips into her eyes, the young woman attempted to rub away the ache of overuse. She slammed her palms down on the desktop in irritation before ripping the page from its spine, crumpling it in a small ball, and tossing it behind her.  It bounced off the other crumpled failures that filled the trash can and fell to the floor.

Jane pushed away from her desk, muttering curse words under her breath.  She stood from her chair, arching her back to stretch her stiff muscles, and picked up her wine glass.  She tipped the remaining rosé into her mouth, gulping it down hastily.

“No one wants to read another murder mystery,” the woman says to herself in a mocking tone, “The market is oversaturated with all of those new James Patterson books.” 

She kicked one of the many paper balls in her path, watching it bounce off the wall and land in front of her snoozing dog.  The mutt lifted his head, sleepily, staring at the ball, before lowering his muzzle back into his bed.

The warm yellow light from her desk lamp cast a harsh glare across the window directly across from her body.  The streak of light caught her attention, drawing her in. Jane poured more wine into her glass, sipping it slowly as she sauntered closer to the window.

Outside her cozy apartment, the streets were alive with a buzzing nightlife.  Just a typical weekday night in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She smiled as she watched groups of people walk under her balcony, their cheers and laughter lifting her mood somewhat.  She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, allowing her breath to fog up the pane. Her eyes closed as she listened to the smooth jazz band playing in the courtyard across the street.  The lead singer’s raspy voice drifted almost effortlessly through the air.

The young woman stayed in the same position for several more minutes, until the world blended into one large annoying reminder of the work she was supposed to be completing.  She groaned, pushing away from the window seat, and walked back towards her desk. She kicked more paper balls as she dragged her feet. Flopping back down into her chair, she let her head fall backwards, hanging over the top of the headrest.

“Booty, what am I gonna do?” she questioned, staring at the small dog still in his bed.

The white and black dog lifted his head again to look at his owner, his long fluffy tail thumping against the plush padding of his bed.  He let out a soft grunt, before yawning.

Jane stuck out her lower lip in a comical pout.  “You’re no help.”

Boots just blinked at his owner’s words before laying back down.  She sighed, lifting her head back up. She winced as the room spun, pressing a hand to her temple.

“Too much wine,” she muttered, looking at her still full glass, “Or is it not enough wine?”  She took another swig and picked up her pen. “They want a new idea, so that’s what I’ll give them.  Something new and exciting!”

Minutes ticked by and Jane found herself, still, with no inspiration.  Instead, she had remained in the same position, the tip of her pen still pressed to the top of her lined notebook, and nothing was coming to her.  No ideas, no characters, no plotlines, just nothing but a large black puddle of bleeding ink.

“God Dammit!” she screamed, throwing her pen in anger.  She covered her eyes with her hands, her body heaving with her deep breathes.  The clacking of her dog’s nails on the wooden floor told her that her shout had startled him enough to send him down the hall to hide in the shelter of her bedroom curtains.  “Sorry boy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by her palms.

She slid her hands up, threading her fingers through her hair, gripping the strands at the roots.  She huffed, leaning back in her seat, defeated. A quick glance at wall-mounted clock told her that it was well past the time that well-adjusted people called it a night.

“But I’m not well-adjusted,” she chuckled to herself, “Maybe I just need to watch some trash TV to take my mind off my impending doom in the form of my editor.”  She got to her feet, gulping down more wine. “Yeah, that is absolutely gonna help me come up with an idea for my new book. Totally.” The sarcastic bite in her words was obvious, although no one else was around to hear it.

Jane flopped down on her couch, her brown hair falling into her face.  “TV on.” She commanded, pulling one of the many throw pillows into her lap.  Instead of the crime show marathon she had been watching earlier in the evening, the concerned visage of a news anchor took up the screen.  The headline graphic read “Deviant Android took Child Hostage”.

Fumbling with the pillow, she got to her knees and leaned closer to the screen, her palms placed on her oak coffee table.  “Volume up!” she commanded, eyes and attention glued to the program.

“Earlier this evening, the first ever instance of an android intentionally harming and killing humans happened in Detroit, when an outdated housekeeping model killed John Phillips, it’s owner, as well as police officer Antony Deckart.  It also took the Phillips’ young daughter hostage and used her as a bargaining chip of sorts. The DPD and SWAT team were quick to step in, however, the situation escalated to the point where a new CyberLife prototype was brought in to deal with unprecedented predicament.”

Jane hung on every word, watching the helicopter cam footage with a morbid fascination.  The spotlights from the copters were focused on a familiar looking blond android who was holding a young girl at gunpoint.  Then they swung to illuminate a new intruder. A tall brown-haired man in a sharply tailored gray suit jacket and dark jeans exited the sliding glass door to the pool area.  He walked with a stiff but confident posture, eyes appearing to calmly scan his surroundings. His mannerisms and blue armband were Jane’s only clues to this brave new person’s identity.

“Damn, CyberLife.  Why you gotta make your new models so fucking hot?  Like it’s seriously unfair,” the author muttered.

The prototype shrugged off a bullet to the shoulder, before taking off his tie.  Jane raised an eyebrow as the new android tied the black piece of fabric around the arm of an injured officer who the deviant had presumably shot before the cameras had arrived.  She leaned closer, one of her knees slipping off the couch cushions in the process, so she just settled for crawling completely on top of her coffee table, perching precariously on the wooden surface.

The footage cut to a different angle, a closeup of the prototype walking up to the deviant, his mouth moving but his words inaudible over the still talking anchorman.  Jane’s blue eyes swept across his face, amazed at the little details the engineers and designers put into their creation. “RK800, huh?” She bit her lower lip, the gears in her brain slowly starting to turn.  The next angle was a distant shot that showed the RK800 slowly approaching the deviant until he pulled a gun, efficiently shooting the murder perfectly between the eyes, and then swoop in to gather the sobbing girl safely into his arms.

“As you saw, the new CyberLife prototype was successful in ending the confrontation, but what does that mean for our police force?  Are the going to be the next ones fully replaced by their android counterparts?” The news anchor blabbered on.

Jane scrunched up her face in disgust.  “Oh, shut up! If the human cops did their job correctly, they wouldn’t have needed to call in the android.  Ugh, I wish people would just own up to their shortcomings rather than blame all the problems on the androids.”

The news coverage moved on to show more footage of the RK800 leaving the building, one camera zooming in on his face.

“TV pause!” she shouted, once again leaning forward.  Captured on her screen was a still frame of the newly dubbed Deviant Hunter.  His sharp jawline was highlighted with the flashing blue lights of the cop cars surrounding the area, which only caused his blue LED to glow even brighter against his skin.  He had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the officer he had saved on the roof as he helped him into a transport vehicle.

Jane continued to stare at the freeze frame in silence for a few minutes, her brain processing the story before settling on two words.  “Bubby cops,” she said under her breath. “Buddy cops,” she said again, her volume gradually getting louder as she kept talking to herself, “A buddy cop story with a human and android partnership!  That’s it! It’s perfect!” The young woman leapt from her perch, her arms raised above her head in triumph. “And you, my handsome muse, are the one I have to thank for the idea,” she spoke to the image on the screen, her index fingernail grazing the plasma slightly.

Giddy with inspiration, the brunette hopped over her couch, scrambling to grab her phone from its charging dock on her writing desk.  She frantically dialed her editor’s number, her nervous energy causing her to bounce on the balls of her feet. The moment the line connected, Jane began talking, not waiting for a greeting.

“Melissa!  I finally got it!  The newest and most exciting topic for my next book!  It’s gonna be a buddy cop serial killer mystery book were the partners are a human and android pair!  How cool and different is that! I totally got the idea from the hostage situation that happened in Detroit earlier today.  Speaking of Detroit, is my apartment there ready to move in yet? I want to be closer to CyberLife headquarters in case I have any questions or need to get some hands-on research.  Do we still have that contact information for that CyberLife board member who was a fan? Maybe they can get us inside. Oh, and I am gonna need a contact inside the Detroit PD. I want to follow one of their detectives around, ya know, for more inspiration.” Jane paused, catching her breath for a second before continuing, “Well, Melissa, are you getting all this?”

There was a beat of dead silence on the other end of the call that honestly had the young author concerned she had dialed the wrong number by mistake again.  She opened her mouth to speak again, when a scratchy, hoarse voice came across the line.

“Ms. Prescott, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Um,” Jane paused, looking around the room, “No Melissa, I can’t say that I do.  I haven’t been able to sleep. Writer’s block keeps me up, ya know.” Her eyes finally landed on her wall-mounted clock, its digital face displaying the current time and date: Aug 16, 2038; 4:47 AM.  “Oh… oh I am so sorry Melissa! I had no idea it was so late- I mean early- I mean- yeah, I am so sorry. I will let you get back to sleep and just talk to you again in a few hours. At a more reasonable time, of course.  Good night- I mean morning- I mean… bye,” she hung up quickly, hanging her head, mortified what she had just done.

She fell into her desk chair, letting her forehead rest against the cold glass surface.  Her head rolled to the side and she started playing with the edges of her notebook. Slowly, a smile crept across her lips, her eyes sliding shut.

“I can’t wait to see where this story takes me.”

**Author's Note:**

> -cough- what do you mean this all sounds familiar? an author follows around a cop to get inspiration for a book series and ends up in love? this is in no way related to Castle! (i totally got inspired from my recent marathon of Castle)
> 
> and if you are here and read my other stories, yes i am still working on them i promise. in fact one of those should be up hopefully soon, as soon as it gets edited. this fandom just kinda grabbed my ankle and pulled me under
> 
> and yes Boots is totally just my dog isn't he cute! his name really is Boots and yes i do call him Booty all the time  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164058916@N06/43282192775/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
